I am going to start collecting these. I don’t even want to know what he’s talking about.
Previously: A way with words
I am going to start collecting these. I don’t even want to know what he’s talking about.
Previously: A way with words
I realize that Creative Loafing has reduced their RSS feed to one measly little teaser so that I will click through and endure their obnoxious pop-up ads and flashy banner ads and they can report to their advertisers of all the “internet impressions” they scored, but Thomas Wheatley‘s microsummaries are so pithy that I never have to leave Google Reader.
Well, I know you all are sick of being told to vote and who to vote for, but since we have audience with and influence over so, so many readers, we have been instructed to beseech you to vote for hometown heroes Regator in Mashable’s Open Web Awards. I don’t know what any of those last words I just typed mean, but just go to the Regator Blog and in that blue box on the right column just type in your email address(es), once a day. I have made this so simple for you with an illustration. You only have to do this until Sunday.
To vote, you don’t have to create an account or sign up for anything, just be sure to click the link in the verification email they send you. And if you have like seventeen different email addresses, then vote with every one of them every day! If Regator wins, they will buy booze for everyone who voted for them because we will demand it so.
As winners of a prestigious award ourselves, we know how accolades from your internet peers can sustain your self-esteem and pageviews for somewhere close to a week, and so we hope Regator can relish in that fleeting, hollow pride as well. Then, when another local publication releases their “Best of Atlanta” issue and Regator isn’t chosen as best local blog, Regator can feel even worse off than when the whole thing started, and try encouraging Thomas Wheatley to get a job at Atlanta magazine. Okay, I’m off to go read Ecclesiastes for comfort.
You know that things have been quiet around here, and we kind of turned into a voting blog which is the worst kind since that is all the internet has been about for months and months. Now I am using all my creative energy while Thomas Wheatley is on sabbatical to pen a masterpiece for the Creative Loafing fiction contest. I guess my vignette falls under the genre of fan fiction – not to give too much away, but it’s about one time a graduate student is invited by a prominent journalist to get their nails done together and watch Real Housewives of Atlanta.
Oh wait, that’s not fiction, that’s my real life. Disqualified.
(Also, so sorry about so many photos in previous posts not showing up. I am working on it bit by bit after making some sort of major mistake earlier this week. They will probably all be fully restored the week of final exams, when I should be doing other things terribly important to my future.)
It’s crunch time, people. Let’s get serious. You have the weekend left to score a costume or start constructing one because come next week all the thrift stores and seasonal aisles will be picked over. AJC, of course, has galleries and galleries full of photos because no one reads anymore and it’s cheaper to pay someone to upload photos of a dog painted like a skunk than to do journalism. They also have this thing called a “Costume-n-ator” – your guess is as good as mine. I don’t “want to see Ludacris as a nerd” so I haven’t tried it yet.
There’s also the Candy Voting Machine (via Decatur Metro). This little tyke Moey has the coolest parents and is apparently world-renowned throughout Decatur for his clever costumes. This year his neighbors will have the chance to vote for their candidate by dropping the requisite treats in the appropriate ballot box. I know I will be interrupting my party to check out the results at 11 p.m. next Friday night. I WONDER WHO WILL WIN.
If you’re trying to spend as little money as possible and are okay with a costume like “Mid-’90s Youth Pastor” or “Person in Stained Sweatsuit”, my suggestion is to hit the thrift stores on Monday since most have everything 50% that weekday.
Previously: Costume contest
I genuinely believe that Virginia-Highland (or “Vaggie Hi” as the locals* call it) is the best neighborhood in Atlanta for my current needs, especially now that more great spots are popping up on the other end of Ponce so I don’t have to drive to enjoy nightlife. And just this weekend I was bragging that it’s the perfect place to live because there’s no room for any condos to be built up.
I’d gotten so used to that foreboding sign at N. Highland and Briarcliff Place that’s been promising The Mix 841 for years now that I blithely thought it would never really happen. But tonight the NPU is voting on a recommendation to rezone the commercial stretches of North Highland, and I for one will be in attendance to vote in favor of anything that bans another Mix-like development, all after a harrowing descent into madness while navigating their website. What triggered my rage blackout just now, you might ask? What makes me so sure that glossy mixed use development (read: 218 parking spaces) is wrong for my treasured neighborhood? The actual names of their “12 unique floorplans”: Tom Collins, the Smokin’ Martini, the Greyhound, the Stinger, the Gimlet, the Tequila Sunrise, the Manhattan, the Sazerac, the French 75, the Brandy Alexander, the Harvey Wallbanger, and the Cosmopolitan. Can we get any other development company in town on this project besides the awful people who invented Neighbor’s, Wolf Camera (“Virginia Highland’s first national retailer”), and the Warren?
I need to go lay down with a cool washcloth across my brow, or whatever it is that rich ladies do when their blood pressure gets agitated by poor taste.
Ugh, what kind of blog of ladies in Atlanta would we be if we didn’t comment on The Real Housewives of Atlanta? I never watched the series before (booooring) and I don’t know if now is especially a good time, economically and politically, to start. But it’s on, and we already have Thomas Wheatley hooked, and Project Runway is almost over, so whatever.
You know, I don’t feel like this show straightens out any misconceptions; therefore the “real” in Real Housewives of Atlanta is unnecessary because you can watch people tastelessly flaunt their money almost anywhere in Atlanta or the suburbs. (I don’t think there are many secrets left about how this class really lives, although the excess is still shocking.) They don’t seem especially picky in their appetites for luxury; for example, DeShawn and her husband build a gigantic home (seen in the photo above) that ends up costing way more than they planned, and when it comes down to decorating it DeShawn only meets with the decorator for three hours before leaving her to fill up the enormous house with stuff. Even the decorator seems a little miffed by this hands-off approach, and when the family enters their new home for the first time they look like one of those families on Extreme Makeover: Home Edition because they have literally never laid eyes on any of the contents of the place they are about to live. If you have ever seen a wealthy person build and decorate a new home, you know DeShawn’s approach is far, far out of the norm. If we were Parisian university students, we would totally take to the streets in protest of this gauche display of bourgeoisie horror.
Anyway, there’s no need for us to beat a dead horse and analyze the show since it’s so hollow, but Amanda Brown’s posts on Pop-o-Matic have been informative since she gets to talk with the housewives and was invited to the depressing opening night party and all. If you need a good introduction to the ladies, Videogum has an enlightening rundown of each one.
I just hope to see NeNe‘s friend Dwight in future episodes. Maybe he’ll get his own spin-off show where he doles out advice to mollycoddled wives, all while wearing three strands of freshwater pearls. What is his story, does anyone know? Is he really a celebrity hairdresser?
How could we forget?! It was our one-year anniversary last week, specifically September 24. This is not significant at all, but I just wanted to point it out so you all will finally think we are legit and not some fly-by-night internet front to promote Thomas Wheatley’s career and undermine the Candler Park Fall Festival. Speaking of Wheatdawg, we also forgot his birthday back in August. He’s a Leo, OF COURSE. We are a Libra, something I discovered after a little research. Here is the compatibility horoscope for Thomas Wheatley and Pecanne Log from Jellybean’s Astro-Soulmate Guide (I really would have preferred the lesbian labryscopes from Labrys but couldn’t find an October issue):
This match has high hopes of lasting and becoming real love. You are both outgoing, social people who adore drama and excitement. You both love being the star of the show, and you’ll have a great time going out together. You love beautiful things, and he is generous with his money. You love laughing, trying new things and having fun, and his zest for life will guarantee that you’re always amused and never bored. Your physical chemistry will sparkle. Leo boys also love to take charge of things, and that’s great for you because you hating having to make decisions. He also loves shopping for clothes! He does need a lot of praise, but if you don’t mind giving it to him he’ll pay you back with lots of compliments. All in all, a wonderful love match.
The stars are lying, because Thomas Wheatley has never bought us anything unless you count the one time he offered Mamalikey one of his menthols. Also, his mom does all his shopping for him, from the Lands’ End catalog.
In trying to figure out the best place to watch the presidential debates this evening I have narrowed it down based on several important criteria:
1. Size of TV. There is nothing worse than attempting to watch tv somewhere if there are going to be five tables of people between you and a 13″ screen mounted on the ceiling. And, I want to see some beads of sweat Kennedy-Nixon style.
2. Chance of seeing Thomas Wheatley. So, having done my homework, it seems that Manuel’s, or other events of undisclosed locations will be my best bets.
3. Quality of crowd. I am hoping for mixed parties, although that is going to be tough. If all goes well I would like to see at least one politically motivated bar fight and heckling throughout. Ideally at least one avid Bob Barr fan will start some shit too.
4. Chairs. I imagine wherever I decide on, I will have to stake out my spot at least an hour if not an hour and a half beforehand, so comfort level is important here. Although, I guess I can bring my stadium cushion.
With these things in mind my list so far:
Manuel’s Tavern: This is probably going to be my first choice, as well as half of Atlanta’s Democratic population’s choice. But, the plus here is going to be that everyone there is going to be into watching the debates and will hopefully have drunken commentary going on the entire night.
The Highlander: This is where I anticipate bar brawls. And, if it is there pool sticks can be involved. Extreme Fighting: Presidential Debates.
Brewhouse: Plenty of TVs. And outside TV’s on the patio. Less of a chance of someone with a Bill O’Reilly head blocking the TV.
That’s all I got for now. Add more as you think of them.
I’m going to confess that the past several weeks have been pretty tumultuous for me with all the instability going on over at the AJC. My first and only concern was the fate of Mark Davis, because no one in the journalism world knows onomotopoeia like that guy! Boy, was I in for a treat my first terrible day back in class when our professor handed out a photocopy of one of Davis’ articles! My life has only gone reassuringly uphill since that day in August because I know that Mark is still covering the beat he knows best – non-humans:
Will Hoschton take away the Cincinnati society’s straw-filled crown? Bettis, who contacted the Guinness people earlier this year and got the approval to challenge the world record, wasn’t ready to declare victory.
“There will be some scarecrows they [Guinness] don’t like,” said Bettis. “It may be November until we know.”
City Clerk Kristen Smith was willing to, well, crow a little bit about the town’s accomplishment.
But the raccoon goofed: it left a trail of tracks across a stack of federal memos. The judge called in his staff and others to solicit their opinions. Their verdict: Procyon lotor, a raccoon, had busted in.
I know Thomas Wheatley is getting jealous and needy just reading this post about another reporter for another paper! Well, with the double shake-up at Creative Loafing I got a little uneasy about him as well. But I’ll finish the script for our pilot for ABC Family and we’ll be golden. It’s a situation comedy about a journalist, a grad student, and a professor/former city employee who live as roommates in a downtown loft and negotiate their ambivalent feelings about gentrification while trying to get book deals and roles in major motion pictures.
It’s good to know that when things get busy outside of Pecanne Log Internet World, Thomas Wheatley has taken up the job of keeping his cult of personality well-maintained so I can pick back up where I left off. Also, despite his attempt at becoming the poor man’s Flip Spiceland, he’s managed to stay provocative as ever by following the Bigfoot beat and posting a video of Bigfoot’s testicles. Good work, Thomas, and happy belated 32nd birthday. If you all see him liveblogging somewhere tonight, buy him a celebratory baked potato.
Like Thomas Wheatley, you’ve probably already blown your entire economic stimulus check on ring pops and fertilizer, so here’s a way to make ends meet until the $7.62 check for your short story in the February 2005 Count Dracula Fan Club News-Journal finally gets here:
MySpace ads are such great matchmakers! So much easier than trolling Famous and the Falafel King in “North Druid Hills” for Emory law and/or medical students. They’re not rich yet.
P.S., I’ve already called dibs on “urdaddybuc” so don’t even bother. It looks like he has a boat.
Previously: Where my boys at
I find it HIGHLY SUSPECT that right after Creative Loafing’s own boy wonder Thomas Wheatley’s tomato plants start flourishing, the nation is paralyzed with fear of salmonella from…you guessed it – TOMATOES. Even more suspicious is the fact that Thomas was home sick last week and watching I Am Legend instead of attending the most important press conference of his career. Was it a case of salmonella he was trying to keep on the DL? Is this another Atlanta media conspiracy? You be the judge, starting with these transcripts:
PS – Thomas wants all of Atlanta to see this.
Yes, we do get a lot of hits from searches for Fall Out Boy, but our #1 post by a long shot is Bitch, You Ride the MARTA Bus. Let’s give the people what they want – at Ohmpark you can actually DOWNLOAD Eric Guenther‘s remix of the Southwest Dekalb High School drum majors’ hit and carry it with you always and forever. Wait till the guitars start wailing! You never knew it could get any better than the original, did you? Well, IT JUST DID! Thank you, Eric Guenther.
Gas prices are so high that the AJC has reporter Mark Davis basically writing a daily article on how everyone hates paying $4+ a gallon. He’s already so tired of this the complainy platitudes of this assignment’s theme that he’s using dessert metaphors, and it’s not even June yet. I can’t wait to watch his use of the pie conceit and other rhetorical tropes get more and more elaborate as the summer progresses. The moral of this story is: girl, go buy a Breeze card.
I also want to assure our readership that we at Pecanne Log will never talk about high gas prices in Atlanta or elsewhere except when we are making fun of someone else for doing so first. Even then we will try to keep that commentary to a minimum, unless Thomas Wheatley gets really out of control. Gas prices are booooooring, and there are so many other things to discuss in the summer in Atlanta like heat, humidity, afternoon thunderstorms, traffic, and events at Centennial Olympic Park. And the Whigs’ blog.
Previously: The art of newspaper writing
Just as your jobs get boring for the summer, a hush has fallen over Pecanne Log. That is due to the 10 hours a day we are spending putting together a Smoking Gun-caliber exclusive to be released a week after Thomas Wheatley’s big cover story hits the Creative Loafing newstands. We have the personal accounts and the document trail to prove Thomas actually spent three years writing textbooks for a Pentacostal homeschool curriculum and watching Antiques Roadshow with his great aunt. However, he did almost get a ticket for loitering when he arrived at work an hour early to read Boys Life in his parked car.
Music blogs across the nation are a-buzz! WHO IS WHITNEY PETTY, DEERHUNTER’S NEW GUITARIST? Is she a real person or a hot suburban stoner cheerleader guitarbot built by Bradford Cox out of his magic “blog” technology? How will she reconcile her love for Aerosmith with Deerhunter’s ambient musical autism? Does Thomas Wheatley know her since they share an alma mater? More importantly, do Thomas and Whitney realize they may have more in common than they thought? And why was she at a party four years ago with two other hippies?
Over the course of those five months, I have grown to admire [DOT Commissioner Gena Abraham] and respect her more and more every day. Her sense of integrity and work ethic is well known throughout state government and I can see why. Over the last month or so we have grown to care for each other more than on a professional level, she became my friend. As our friendship developed, we realized that there was the possibility of something more than friendship.
I hope when my secret boyfriend has to quit his high-profile position because of our forbidden love, he writes such a swooning press release extolling my womanly virtue!
If you need a visual of what that kind of love looks like, check out Tommy W’s photoshop skills:
Inspired by Delilah’s Friday Nite Girls, I think we should start a chapter of what we’ll call the Sunday Evening Choristers where we get together to do some sort of activity while we listen to radio personality John Lemley host Tapestry. Maybe if we are feeling really wacky we can call in and have John Lemley dedicate a Byzantine liturgy to our handbell choir director who was really encouraging when we were going through a hard time.
John Lemley is so famous he has his own Wikipedia entry. Learn it! It has a few gross oversights, however, by omitting any mention of John Lemley’s cookbook collection and his cats Tillie, Leona and Lexie. Why aren’t John Lemley and I bff!?!?
Speaking of WABE celebs, a couple of weeks back Thomas Wheatley got to chat about the Golden Sleaze awards with Steve Goss, the velvet-voiced Atlanta radio veteran. I am 100% sure this was the highlight of Thomas’s life, and that’s no small potatoes because Thomas got to hear me read aloud some of my original works written when I was 19 and we shared a creative writing class.
Just as Thomas Whea- I mean, Creative Loafing’s Golden Sleaze awards are announced, with NASCAR-sideburned Glenn Richardson taking the top prize, the Georgia Senate decides to pass legislation that allows Georgians with concealed weapon permits to carry guns on public transportation and in restaurants. This bill has actually been watered down from the House original, which also included churches, sporting events, and political rallies as okay for concealed firearms.
Two of our senators from Atlanta, Nan Orrock and Vincent Fort, tried to thwart the measure or add amendments promoting safety, but to no avail; the legislation goes to the House next which is even more generous in their interpretation of the 2nd amendment.